Matrimonial Complexity
by Senket
Summary: out-of-order, related oneshots on Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, and blurring the line between friendship and romance. Thus far, two birthdays, a supposed wedding, a mission where Things Went Badly Wrong, and a confession.
1. Ferris

**Ferris** (season four)

Rodney shocked awake, squinting up into the light, blinking rapidly for a second or two to adjust. Everything was a blurry mess of green and blue, slowly redefining itself into a big man-shaped shadow, the morning sun flashing over its shoulder, a crowd of people dressed in blue and black behind him. He focused on Zelenka's face, the man halfway between the shadow and the crowd, his eyebrows up as he smiled.

"Awake, Rodney?" he looked at the figure, squinting again.

"Colonel?"

He made out the man's customary grin, Sheppard's sun-greened eyes following beams up and up. Rodney sat up slowly, shifting to the side when his seat rocked under him. He glanced down in surprise when he noticed a cup of coffee appear in his hand suddenly, and looked up slowly again. "Oh…" And then he paused, shifting to glance behind the CO. The rest of the crowd was looking at him with amusement, or at Sheppard with curiosity, or up with a look of pride. Up? "Oh!"

He scrambled to his feet and got out, the cabin swaying back and forth slowly as it tried to find its center again after that shift in weight, and went to stand beside Zelenka, peering upwards at the great structure.

"Did you finish?" The Czech asked him, brows round above his glasses as he sipped slowly from his own lidded cup, peering towards the small control station.

"Yes, of course I finished," he answered grumblingly, the effect ruined by the clear pride in his eyes and the twinge of a smile on the edge of his lip while they watched Sheppard smooth his fingers along wooden slats.

He moved forward again, touching his friend's shoulder. "Happy birthday, John."

The man didn't answer, turning and wrapping both arms around the man's shoulders as he heaved him forward. "Best birthday," he breathed in Rodney's ear after a long beat, before releasing him and turning to the crowd with a rare and incredible smile. "Alright, you were all involved?"

They all smiled, nodding, hollering various calls at him and each other, laughing. "Alright! Everybody's getting on the damn wheel!" He waved them all forward and turned to Rodney. "How do you control this thing?"

"Uh. Well. You do, actually."

"Whadya mean?"

"Well. It's." He squinted up at the large wooden structure. "That is to say, I combined it with an Ancient control system, so you can do it with that empty head of yours."

John froze, gaping as he stared at Rodney with large eyes. A broad, heavy sound made him turn his head as the wheel slowly started to turn- John blinked and it stilled again, and his smile somehow got even brighter. He wrapped an arm around Rodney's shoulder and banged his forehead against the man's temple. "You're amazing, McKay."

"Well yes," he answered carelessly, shrugging carelessly, feeling faintly awkward with all this body contact. "Genius."

John laughed, and climbed into the first basket with Rodney, Zelenka and Lorne, turning the Ferris wheel slowly so that groups of four could get in, one after the other, and when they were all on, moved it in a slow and constant circle until he was at the top again, fixing his eyes on the distant Atlantis with a not-so-distant smile, amazed that they had managed to build this and even more amazed that they had, with so many people involved, managed to keep it a secret.

"Best day ever," Sheppard told Rodney with a conspiratory smile many hours later, after different gene-bearers had taken turns at controlling the Ferris wheel as every member of the Atlantis expedition celebrated his birthday (on shifts, of course,) on the mainland, a happy party around a large wooden wheel somehow hooked up to technology they could barely understand. Everyone had gone back but the two of them, sitting across from each other at the top of the wheel and staring out at the gleaming spires across the water.

"Well, you know. I try." He didn't miss the way Rodney smiled, either, and reached across to smack him lightly on the shoulder, taking a large bite out of a lemon tart just to spite him.

"Someone once told me that geniuses don't try, they succeed."

"Why yes, I-"

"It's a dirty lie. But I'm glad you can pull through occasionally."

"Fine. Next time, save your own damn life." Sheppard laughed when the man's nose when up in the air.

"Fine."

They smiled into the darkness, and toasted long-empty cans of beer, glancing back over to home.


	2. Champagne

**Champagne **Season 4ish

John felt a headache coming on, moving just ahead of Rodney as the scientist stared into space as he talked, mouth speedy and expressive, miraculously avoiding walking into walls.

"I mean, it's not like- I mean. I want people to like me. I know my words get away from me sometimes, but just because I'm completely honest doesn't mean-" he paused, huffed a long breath, red-faced and uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot before he started walking again, breezing past Sheppard. "Did you know it's my birthday today? I mean. Usually I make such a big deal about it because it sucks majorly when nobody remembers, even if it's just another year where all my work is classified and I have no chance with that Nobel, but." He shook his hands in the air vigorously, making a strange, strangled sound in the back of his throat. "Well. You know. I hoped that. Well, at least after that time I almost died and Elizabeth said- and Ronon _hugged_ me- and. Well. I figured. Just to see, you know?" He glanced at Sheppard's face, nervous and twitchy, but the man wasn't looking back at him, strides steady as he moved beside the CSO. "Well. No. It turns out- no one's mentioned it. Not even Radek. Hell, Carter didn't mention it, and she writes people's birthday notes at the beginning of each month!"

John glanced back at him casually, raising an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, and Rodney threw his hands up in the air, crying out in frustration. "I mean, the least they could do is pretend! I save their asses who knows how many times a day, just by preemptively correcting mistakes, and sure I'm a little rough about it, but- I really do mean the best, and I thought people _knew_ that, and- damn. Everyone wants friends." He barely noticed when John took a sharp left, having to track back to stomp through the door- and was frozen in place, eyes large and blue when half of Atlantis greeted him, raising glasses of champagne (and how did they get enough bottles for everyone to have more than a dollop without his notice?) and shouting greetings and 'happy birthday's over each other.

He turned to look at John and found only a mess of black hair vanishing into the crowd, the man's stride unbroken as he made his way to the back where Lorne handed him his own flute. Sam came up with a flute for Rodney, grinning. "Having a good day?"

"I-" he swallowed, catching the CMO roll his eyes as he explained something to his second, imitating Rodney's hand gestures, and almost but didn't miss the smirk that was more fond than anything, and smiled lopsidedly as he turned to Sam. "I think I am."


	3. And The Truth Is

**And the truth is…** (Season 4)

"You're stupid."

"No, you're stupid."

"Oh, that's clever," he replied, smirking, as though he'd somehow won the argument. "Very clever, there, John, I'm quite impr-HEY!" He reached for the jello cup his friend had stolen but John turned away, blocking with his back and jerking his elbows to keep Rodney away as he tore it open and went to smash it against his face.

"What- that's gross! And cheating! You owe me a cup! I'm-" and he realized John's was still on his plate, same flavor and everything. "Damnit! I hate you!" He snatched it away and ate it like a child, pouting and getting flecks of blue gelatin stuck to his cheek.

John snickered, despite the jello all over his chin and nose.

Sam Carter, who had frozen a few feet away when the fight had first started- and she could remember Rodney acting rude and childish but not like _this_- moved towards them very cautiously, staring at the two even as she sat down across from a completely unfazed Teyla.

"I can't seem to decide if they're more like an old married couple or the worst pair of brothers a mother could ask for."

Rodney huffed out something rude and incredulous, shooting John evil looks as he blamed the man for the entire incident.

John flashed a toothy jokester's grin at Rodney and turned to Sam, and in a voice far too loud, said: "Actually, we are married. On three different planets, even!"

"You swore you'd never mention that again!" Rodney screeched, high pitched and, to John, _hilarious_.

"You guys have to worst inside jokes," Sam told them with a put-upon groan.

"John is, in fact, telling the truth, Colonel," Teyla informed her with a sage smile. "On MX9-T21. The chieftain's tribe was unwilling to trade with us without one of the team's members marrying his only daughter."

"So we'd be part of the family," John injected helpfully, still smirking.

"Indeed. They are a very close-nit society."

"And in a fit of really terrible lying, Rodney said we couldn't, because we were gay for each other."

"Well, I couldn't pick Teyla, because they'd already decided that she was clearly with Ronon. Probably because they're both macho, tanned, leather-wearing beasts," he added, grumbling, glancing sideways at the perfectly serene-looking woman.

"So," John continued, eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned forward to speak to Sam quietly, "apparently we could also be 'part of the family' if we shared with them our so-called 'wonderful union' by getting married in the village square."

"We were desperate for food at the time!" Rodney told her, pale-faced, eyes wide with mortification.

"He means booze!" John informed her cheerily.

"So… you two got hitched."

"Aliens made us do it!" The man answered gleefully, laughing when Rodney shot him a murderous glare, throwing the empty jello cup at his head.

"On three different planets…?"

"They are a seasonal tribe. During MX9-T21's monsoon season, they travel to a place they call 'Soriyana,' and during its dry season, to 'Aleshta.' They are only there during the short months between, where the rain has halted but the flora is still vibrant. We were lucky to have met with them."

"Hold on. I read that report. The Enastis, right? No mention of marriage, though," she chuckled.

"We figured we should keep it off the record, what with DADT and all," John winked.

"Well it's not off the record anymore, is it." Rodney grumbled.

"Doctor McKay," Sam said in a grand tone that was mockingly serious but gave herself away with the giggling lilt in her voice, "if I told you how many times members of SGA accidentally or forcibly got hitched to others or each other, then…"

They all leaned forward (except Teyla) with various degrees of interest and morbid curiosity-

"Well," she said, looking a little flustered as she leaned back into her chair. "Actually. I'd have to make up a number. In 10 years, I sort of lost track. Anyway, who knows with all those times we were separated, too."

John had the decency to laugh at the way Rodney turned an odd shade of white-green instead of at Colonel Carter.


	4. Chain

**Chain** (season 2)

Five minutes ago, Ronon started screaming obscene threats at their impassive guards, throwing his bulk against the bars that encaged them. The men watched him passively, weapons at the ready yet uninterested, and said nothing as they watched rusted bars bruise lines across tanned skin.

Five minutes ago, Teyla crouched in a corner and watched the men as they watched Ronon, her eyes betraying nothing but a deep stillness. She was a tigress, waiting for the opportunity to strike, feral and focused.

Five minutes ago John pressed himself against the bars that separated them from the empty cell beside theirs, wild eyes fixed on the corridor that led deeper into the complex.

Five minutes ago, Rodney McKay stopped screaming.

* * *

John knew instinctively that Ronon was yelling savagely, renewing his efforts to get out and destroy their captors. He knew instinctively that, though she was silent as the grave, Teyla was tense and ready to explode. He knew instinctively Atlantis was doing their best to find them.

He couldn't hear a thing, white noise buzzing in his ears, and watching without feeling as two men dragged a limp, bloody mess into the adjoining cell and left it on the floor before straightening their uniforms and marching out again.

He knew instinctively that Rodney McKay could not take much more.

Consciously, his head was empty except for the sound of screaming, and the sight of blood oozing out of a torn ear.

* * *

They knew Rodney was conscious first because of the soft sound of breathless and painful coughing, because of the tired moan. Teyla spoke nonsense through the bars, moving closer, and they could tell Rodney was trying to lift his head to look at them, but it was so hard, muscles stiff with pooled blood that shone purple and blue all over his body through the streaks where sweat had melted away grime. When his face finally turned, John felt something tear into him. Though only one of his eyes opened enough to even see them, Rodney regarded each for a long moment, studying their forms. The look of pronounced relief in the scientist's features, to see his teammates were all there, to see they were all unharmed and tense and watching him and _all right_, make John sick with tension and something he couldn't name. Then slowly, oh so slowly, Rodney started to move towards them.

Sheppard watched, feeling dangerously helpless, fear cold and acidic in him, fingers white with the strength of his grip on the rusting bars. McKay dragged himself closer, inch by inch. His face was twisted with strain, dark under a layer of grime and blood. His breath hitched with ever move. He would stop for long stretches at a time, panting. The scientist cried softly, muffled sobs and whining whimpers as he moved, leaving a dark streak against the flecked floor. He would occasionally cry out, the sounds torn from his dry throat and followed with ragged sobs, or try to spit the blood out of his mouth and be only able to make an odd hacking sound as fluids dribbled down his chin.

Sheppard never looked away, trying his best to categorize McKay's injuries. He was going to get him back, he was going to get a list of every single cut and bruise and burn and break, and he was going to replicate every one on each of those captors. He had been thinking about how nice it would be to get them kneeling at his feet, make them beg for their lives like they'd made Rodney _scream_, and shoot them in the head, quick and done, but no. They didn't deserve that. No one was getting to be so damn _lucky_

Clammy, trembling fingers brushed against his and he gripped Rodney's hand without a thought, wincing when the man flinched but never letting go. Teyla hurried over, now that the man was in range, slipping her slender hand through the bars to brush her fingers against his temples tenderly. Ronon sat beside her, strong back pressed against the bars, his fingers conveniently placed through the gaps. Rodney shifted closer, pressing his shoulder against the large fingers, curling towards them, pressing tightly against the bars. Teyla sang softly but none of them relaxed in the slightest, whipcords of tension thrumming down their spines.

"Rodney, you couldn't talk if you wanted to," John told him quietly, squeezing the man's fingers. "Do you want us to stop it?" Rodney didn't so much respond as make a long, winded sound, edging into a scraggly whimper. "I'll take that as a no," he responded, pressing his forehead against the bars, "but just say the word anytime." Rodney didn't respond, and they lapsed back into a heavy silence.

* * *

"You think McKay can bear it?" Teyla and Sheppard glanced at the tall man. After a long pause, the CO shrugged, returning to his silent vigil, eyes fixed on the door of the cell beside them.

"It does not matter," Teyla told him softly, her head rolling to the side. "McKay has not… been able to deal very well with pain or torture historically." Sheppard sneered at that, sinking against the wall. "Keeping himself silent under this abuse must be very trying for him." She paused, glancing over at their team leader, taking in his stilted fury, before straightening her back and turning again to Ronon, brows rising. "To break for him when he is trying so hard to keep himself in check- we cannot take the worth of his effort away from him. As long as Rodney tries to bear it, we will bear it with him."

"No matter how difficult it may be," she added quietly, gaze dropping to the ground between her feet.

* * *

He didn't really remember the rescue clearly. He remembered the cell door opening, someone handing him a gun, and going white with rage. He remembered screaming and trying to beat him own men out of the way when Rodney was strapped up in something, only stopped when Ronon wrapped his tree-limb arms around him and lifted him off the ground. He remembered sitting, staring at the wall, as Elizabeth tried to get _anything_ out of him, and sneering when she ordered him to go see Heightmeyer. He remembered wondering when he had torn his knuckles, and hoping it was bashing in someone's head, and not feeling at all sorry for the thought. He remembered Heightmeyer asking him how he felt about Rodney's condition and saying that 'the asshole better be having a nice dream' and really, really hoping that Rodney was because, god, he deserved it. He- He. He just. Everything.

Two weeks later and there had been no change. Sheppard's eyes were blood-shot, his hair flat and listless, a smear of dirt beneath his left eye. Twelve hours ago he was called out of the infirmary to run a rescue mission. He'd been at first terrified that Rodney would awake before he could return, and then hoped that the strange rules of the universe would ensure that the man wake up while he was away- because Rodney waking while he was gone was infinitely better than Rodney never waking at all.

But he hadn't woken, and now John Sheppard was feeling less at ease than ever. The majority of Doctor McKay's injuries had healed, at least the external. His left leg had fractured in two places, his right broken outright; he had a crushed left hand, cracked ribs- all still healing. But the cuts had healed, the bruises had cleared, the lash-marks had scarred, the burns had scarred or vanished, the respirator had been removed, and still Rodney would not wake. He sank into his chair, pressing his fingers against his eyes, against his temples, and sighed heavily. War and Peace was sitting on top of the heart monitor, but he didn't want to read it, hadn't read it, so he huddled down for another long period of silence.

A change in the rhythm of beeping jarred the lanky man awake, and he shot forward to grab twitching fingers, holding his breath. "Rodney?"

Hazy blue eyes moved sluggishly, the scientist looking around the room in confusion. McKay relaxed with a soft huff when he saw the troubled man beside him, squeezing the hand back. Sheppard all but collapsed, his forehead pressed against the bed-pan.

"You scared the shit out of me."

Rodney tried to smile- a weird look, lopsided more than usual, his head lolling to the side. "I never told them a thing, Colonel."

The man swore under his breath, squeezing his eyes closed. "I know, buddy. I know."

* * *

Sheppard edged through the halls like a shadow, aware of every creak of his leather jacket and every scuff of his boots against the floor. It was far too late at night to be worrying about such things, but Atlantis had the strangest ability to echo your thoughts when all was dark and empty, and it was hard to sleep with the image of black-brown blood and Rodney's puffy, bruised, half-opened eye staring listlessly at the ceiling as his own men dragged him away. He sighed heavily and slid into the mess, pausing when he noted the lone figure at the last table in the corner, staring down into a cup, fingers laced together and shaking. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked casually, tight and uncomfortable. What the hell else could he say?

Rodney didn't move for a second before looking up. His eyes were bright and bare, and John swallowed. "Couldn't bear to be alone, I guess. It's just- I don't know. I guess I think if I fall asleep on my own I'll wake up back there- or not at all." He tried to laugh, but it was short and awkward and the cavernous, empty room only magnified it and threw it back at them in a twisted tone. Rodney shivered and shrank a little more. "It's fine, whatever, I mean I've been sleeping for, what, two weeks? I should really just work. I've gotta catch mistakes before something one of the other idiots did kill all of us. You know. I'd rather nip it in the-"

He faltered when John put a hand on his shoulder, his mouth snapping shut as he looked up at his friend.

"Come on," John told him, hoisting him up as he inclined his head towards the exit. "Let's get you _properly_ rested."

Rodney sighed but didn't struggle, following the man silently back to his own quarters.

* * *

When John woke he discovered that he had not only gotten up late, but missed a good chunk of that section of the day he liked to call 'morning.' Rodney was still asleep; he'd shifted out of John's arms and onto his stomach at some point, face pushed into the pillow, mouth half-open as he snored softly, but his side still pressed against John shoulder to foot. One arm dangled over the edge and John, as he sat up, was quite surprised to find that Teyla had appeared some time during the day and was sitting with her back against the bed, her arm touching lengthwise along Rodney's, patiently carving something out of a small piece of reddish wood they had found a few missions ago. Ronon, who had no doubt gone looking for Sheppard when he hadn't shown up for their morning run, was sitting with his back against the door and his arms crossed, legs stretched out in front of him.

"Uh. Good morning?" He asked, dazed. Since when did he sleep through people walking into the room? For that matter, since when did his internal clock abandon him like that?

Teyla was the first to respond, glancing over her shoulder to smile at him lightly. "Good morning to you, Colonel Sheppard. I am glad to see you well rested. Perhaps at this time it would be best if you were to nourish yourself as well?"

He shrugged, running his fingers through messy hair. "I don't know. I think maybe we should wait for Rodney to-"

"Taken care of." He glanced up to see Elizabeth edging around Ronon with a full platter, Carson behind her with a second. "Good morning, John. Brought you breakfast." She smiled, handing the platter over and taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

Rodney groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, woken quickly by the flurry of activity. Carson pulled it away and coaxed him up, holding out some coffee just closely enough for the man to get a sniff before pulling it away and trying to convince him to down something that looked suspiciously like a pear but tasted an awful lot closer to coconut- though not really that, either.

Sheppard edged a little out of the way, far enough for Carson to mother his best friend and still close enough that their legs touched under the covers. Nobody complained when he refused to move any farther, though they would've had trouble doing it over the sound of Rodney arguing with Carson about what he called 'rabbit food.'

John settled against the headboard, staring at everyone as he ate, and marveled at the workings of this strange family of his.


	5. Honestly

**Honesty **(post-series, soon after Atlantis returns to Pegasus)

"Hey. I love you."

All John can do is stare because, really, _what the hell_? Rodney's leaning against the doorframe, looking red-eyed and disheveled and like he's been on stimulants again, but that's not important because it's obvious he's thinking just as clearly as always. "What?"

"I love you," he repeats, shrugging, then stifles a yawn. Unsuccessfully, and he looks a little grouchy, but not at John which is maybe pretty odd. "Figured I should tell you."

John feels pretty damn uncertain about the whole thing, and it must be showing on his face because Rodney looks annoyed _at him_ now, and that's a little more normal, but he just grunts and rolls his eyes and slumps against the door a little, hugging his laptop to his chest.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Colonel, I said 'I love you,' not 'I want to fuck you.'"

He didn't know there was a difference until now. Well, he did, because he loves Teyla and Ronon to death and beyond, and yeah, maybe actually a _lot_ of people on base because when did _that_ happen and, yeah, of course, Rodney too, but he thinks Rodney means it in _that_ way, in the _white picket fence, dog, picnics and children_ way, though Rodney hates kids likes he hates idiots. At least he says so, but John was there when Rodney heard Torren's full name and pulled the worst kicked-puppy face John had ever seen, and he'd seen Rodney make some pretty pathetic faces. And then he'd seen the complete reversal when Teyla told him that, as the man who had delivered the baby, he was actually held in pretty damn high esteem in Athosian culture, basically a preemptive godfather. So.

Back to the subject at hand though, John was still staring at Rodney blankly, the man looking sort of amused at his friend's slow processing, and sort of irritated at his response. "Well, now you know. Whatever. I got you some cookies from the mess, by the way," he added, and threw the cellophane package at John's head. One of them was half-eaten already. "Good night."

The astrophysicist left.

Several minutes later, as he was munching thoughtfully on his cookie, John thought he'd never heard such an anticlimactic confession of love in his life.

It only figured it was probably the most honest one.


End file.
